Adventures in Normality
by Dragoncello
Summary: Moving on, role reversal and words that make people uncomfortable - or why you should never go to the Weasleys for relationship advice.


**A/N: This is my first fanfic and for the record, a really good way to fight the boredom of being sick. Also, the word fanfiction heavily implies that I'm not JK Rowling but am in fact just a fan. A fan with too much time on her hands.**

 **Adventures in Normality**

Harry liked to think that he had good survival instincts.

Not that he hadn't jumped on the back of the odd mountain troll in his younger years, but his days of recklessly running into danger were far behind him now, it being roughly two months since he'd jumped on the back of an angry dragon and encouraged his closest friends to do likewise.

He'd already half-died once before, hadn't he? Surely he had earned the right to look out for his own skin for once. Besides, now that he could finally take killing a Dark Lord off his to-do list, Harry was strongly committed to at least surviving until August, when he and the Weasleys would be travelling to Brazil for the 1998 Quidditch World Cup. This, incidentally, would also be Harry's first ever holiday - barring of course his, Ron and Hermione's depressing tour of the British woodlands, which they were all in a hurry to forget.

Basically, Harry was anxious to keep all body parts attached to his body for the time being, which was why he was currently hiding from his girlfriend in the hall at the bottom of the stairs.

'Morning, Harry' yawned Ron as he fumbled his way down the staircase.

Harry spun around awkwardly on his heels, hoping that in his sleep-deprived state, the redhead might miss the obvious fact that Harry was hovering.

'Morning' he answered back lightly.

'Aren't you going in?' asked Ron, looking at Harry with confusion.

'Yeah, of course I am' said Harry. 'I just wanted to, er…avoid the crowds'.

The excuse wasn't completely unbelievable as the house had grown undeniably stuffy lately, what with his unfortunate homelessness and the elder Weasleys' determination to spend more time at the Burrow after Fred's funeral.

'Oh' said Ron blankly, before his expression rearranged itself into one of concern. 'Bad night, was it?'

Doubtlessly, he was talking about Harry's nightmares, which - as for the rest of the house's occupants - had only grown more intense after the battle. Although being woken up by Harry talking in his sleep was probably a fact of life for his long-time roommate, Harry had nevertheless felt guilty for piling his own problems on top of Ron's grief and after a few bad nights in a row, he'd been careful to cast muffliato every night before falling asleep. They still happened, now and again, but they were nothing to the Horcrux-induced visions he'd had to put up with for years.

Besides, last night he'd been staring at the ceiling until the early hours of the morning for reasons that had nothing to do with death - quite the opposite in fact. The distinction probably should have made him feel better.

'No, nothing like that' Harry denied, growing a little uncomfortable under Ron's penetrating gaze, which was a bizarre sight to see on his best friend even when it wasn't eight in the morning.

'Okay' said Ron sceptically. 'Not that this isn't a fun place to hang out in, but those are definitely mum's pancakes that I smell' –

'Oi, you're blocking up the hallway' complained George as he bounded down the stairs already fully dressed. 'Ron, please explain to Harry the proper etiquette for pancake days'.

'You mean the dozen rules that basically amount to 'don't get in the way of us and pancakes'?' snorted Ron.

'Don't worry, Harry. I'll have Percy draw up a pamphlet' said George with a friendly slap on the back. 'So why the lurking?'

'We're not lurking' said Harry defensively. 'Just waiting, or…standing's also a verb that we use sometimes'.

'Is it just me or is Harrykins trying to hide something?' asked George with a raised eyebrow.

'No I'm not' said Harry. The hallway was getting awfully squashed.

'Yeah you are' agreed Ron, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 'You did that mumbling thing you always do when you lie. You mumbled' he accused.

'Maybe he's hiding from someone' suggested George, beginning to enjoy himself. 'Although it would have to be someone scarier than You-Know-You to intimidate the Chosen One.'

'Well, we all know he's mum's favourite, so it can't be her' pointed out Ron.

'I bet Fleur could be scary if you got her angry enough' suggested George thoughtfully. 'Remember those Veela at the Bulgaria-Ireland match?'

'It's the forgetting part that's the problem' –

'Hi Ginny' exclaimed Harry, his voice coming out louder than he intended.

Ginny glared at the three of them coldly from three steps up and said nothing as the silence grew.

'Sleep well?' asked George sarcastically.

Wisely deciding to ignore the three of them, she stepped around Harry, who fumbled for words long enough for her to slip away into the kitchen.

'Ah' summed up George sagely. 'A lover's quarrel'.

'Shut up' said Harry.

'What did you do to our sister?' asked Ron angrily.

'Nothing!' he protested. 'We just…had a conversation that didn't end well'.

'I told you we shouldn't have let him off the hook just because he's Harry' said George, shaking his head. 'Years of planning! All down the drain'.

'What are you talking about?' asked Harry.

'Our plans to intimidate Ginny's future boyfriend' explained Ron. 'We've been training for this since she was born'.

'So when you were one, then?' challenged Harry.

'It is the sacred duty of the older brother' explained George. 'You're a smart one, though, I'll give you that: getting in early, when you're all innocent and scrawny - we let our guard down, I'll admit that. Then, you wait to tell the family until after you've saved us all from a brutal dictator so we have no choice but to say 'Take her, she's all yours! Please don't kill us too!'

'You do realise Ginny would kill you herself if she heard you say any of that, right?' asked Harry.

'You see, that's why we like you with Ginny' said George. 'You get how terrifying she is'.

'Right' said Harry, still feeling generally lousy but glad that George was feeling more like his old self, even if it was at his expense.

'So just to be sure, you haven't made Hermione mad as well, have you?' asked Ron nervously. 'Because I'm not sure I can deal with two angry girls, neither of whom have a problem with hexing us, not to mention mum' –

'What are you doing lurking about in ze hall?' asked Fleur suspiciously from the top of the stairs behind them.

'Nothing' said Ron, after a pause, as they all scattered.

Breakfast was just as tense as Harry had feared. Ginny refused to meet his eyes, choosing instead to fume silently while picking at her food. At least his foul mood had gone relatively unnoticed in the hubbub of voices and he was free to brood in peace, listening absentmindedly to the conversations around him.

'And this one' said Charlie, pulling up his right sleeve to proudly show off his latest burn 'was this great big Peruvian Vipertooth we found wandering the Carpathian Mountains. We figure someone tried to raise him on their own and then left him out there once the horns started growing in'.

'Don't let your mother see that' warned Mr. Weasley, pulling Charlie's sleeve back down. 'She worries. And frankly, so do I!'

'Don't be ridiculous, dad' said Charlie, rolling his eyes. 'I've pulled less death-defying stunts than these three' he said, indicating Harry, Ron and Hermione.

'Except we never get paid for it' said Ron seriously in between bites.

'Speaking of gold: any word on your vaults yet, Harry?' asked Charlie.

'The goblins aren't giving in one inch' said Bill, chiming in from across the table. 'It's scandalous – they'd all be dead anyway if it wasn't for you lot'.

'I don't really care, to be honest' said Harry. He had more important things than money on his mind right now and even if he didn't, he was finding it difficult to distance himself from his vision of the massacre at Gringotts after the break-in. Whatever he told himself late at night, it certainly _felt_ like he had been the one to kill them all. So if the loss of his bank vaults as reparations was the cost of preventing another goblin rebellion, he'd happily pay it.

'It never really felt like my money, anyway…'

'At least they've conveniently forgotten Hermione and I were there too' joked Ron.

'Exactly' snorted Harry. 'I knew there was a bright side'.

'Ginny, are you even listening to me?' he heard Hermione complain from the other end of the table. He couldn't stop himself from looking up at the sound of her name and for one moment their eyes met before she looked back down to her plate, stony faced. He hastily started buttering a piece of toast.

'I'm sorry, Hermione' she said in an undertone, so that Harry could barely hear them. 'You were saying, about… something about hinkypunks'.

'What on earth would I be saying about hinkypunks?' asked Hermione, bemused. 'Are you feeling alright? You've been distracted all morning'.

'I'm fine, Hermione' she said, with only a slight edge to her voice.

'Are you sure, Ginny?' asked Mrs. Weasley, catching the conversation as she brought more milk over to the table. 'You've barely touched your breakfast'.

'I guess I'm just not hungry, mum' she said, getting visibly frustrated.

'But they're your favourite food, you love pancakes!' chided Mrs. Weasley, as if her daughter's loss of appetite was a personal affront to her cooking.

'I'd be careful with your language, mum, you might make some people uncomfortable'.

Harry choked and spluttered pumpkin juice all over the table, vaguely aware of the rest of the table turning to look at him as Ron pounded him on the back.

'My word, are you alright?' asked Mr. Weasley.

'That figures' snorted Ginny. 'Even mention the word and his body goes into shock'.

'What's that, Ginny?' asked Mrs. Weasley, looking confused as Harry glared at his girlfriend through the remains of his coughing fit.

'They're fighting' said George helpfully.

'Oh, dear' said Mrs. Weasley, looking heartbroken.

'No we're not' Harry grunted.

'Yes we are' said Ginny stubbornly, still picking languidly at her plate. 'Which is a proper, normal reaction, if you've heard of those'.

'Have I missed something?' asked Bill.

'Oh, Harry, you didn't...' sighed Hermione, evidently putting two and two together.

'Didn't what?' asked Ron, glancing at his best friend.

'From what I can tell' said George as he casually got on with the meal, 'Ginny here told Harrykins that she loved him and it didn't go over too well'.

'George!' protested Harry.

'Mon dieu' whispered Fleur, watching the exchange like a tennis match.

'What?' said Ron in disbelief when neither of them made a move to correct George. 'That's mental! Harry's loved Ginny for ages, haven't you Harry?' he nudged his best friend, who could only gape back at Ron. 'Go on, you're upsetting her. Tell her you love her. Right now. Just tell her'.

'Ronald!' gasped Hermione as Harry face palmed.

'What?'

'Don't be so insensitive!'

As the inevitable argument broke out between his two best friends, Harry watched Ginny stand up from the table angrily and was about to follow her when George looked over at him and promptly burst into laughter.

'What?' asked Harry furiously. 'What is so funny, George?'

'Elbow…' he gasped out between great, heaving laughs, 'in the...in butter dish'.

The effort proved too much for George, who proceeded to convulse with laughter on the shoulder of a very amused Bill while Ron discreetly sniggered into his cup of tea. To be sure, looking down, there was his shirt sleeve slathered in melting butter, but the image only served to make him angrier as he left the table in search of Ginny.

He found her sitting out on the bench in the back garden, calmly tossing Bertie Botts Beans to an enthusiastic group of gnomes over by the pond. The sight of her looking so serene was completely at odds with his state of mind so he settled for saying nothing as he sat down next to her, still breathing heavily.

'Ginny, I' –

'I'm sorry' she cut in, still looking out at the garden.

'You're…what?' he said stupidly.

'I shouldn't have said anything in front of the herd in there' she said, picking out a bean for herself from the bag of sweets on her lap. 'I was just… angry'.

'I know' he said miserably. 'You have a right to be'.

'You just froze, Harry' she said, finally staring back at him with confusion and hurt in her eyes. 'I mean, I gave you a lot of time' she went on, looking like she almost wanted to laugh. 'A good forty seconds at least. And then you just let me walk away. It's not like I even needed an answer, I get that we're in different places. After everything that's happened…'

Her voice wavered slightly at the admission and Harry knew then as he always knew, that she was thinking about Fred. Almost automatically, he reached a hand out to her and was relieved when she squeezed it tightly.

'Ginny' he tried softly, hating seeing her so sad, especially when he knew that last night, he might have ebbed even a little bit of the sadness that was a constant presence in their lives these days.

'It's okay' she said, staring down at their enclosed hands.

'No, it's not… I need to explain' he said fiercely. 'It's just you're going to think I'm an idiot, or pathetic, or…'

'Why would I think that?' she asked, taken aback.

'I was just surprised' he admitted helplessly. 'And I wasn't expecting it, so it threw me a little. And no one's ever really said it to me before' –

'Oh, God' she choked out, shock replacing the hurt. 'I didn't even think' –

'You shouldn't have had to, it's not important' he said, embarrassed.

'Are you kidding me?' she spluttered. 'How has no one else ever said it to you? My whole family loves you, Harry! And Sirius loved you and Remus and god, I'm going to _kill_ Ron and Hermione' –

'No you're not' sighed Harry, moving over so that she could lean against his side. 'It's not as terrible as it sounds, okay? This is why – I don't want pity. I mean, I know that they…care' he finished weakly.

'They more than care' she said, looking right into his eyes like she knew every part of him. 'And so do I. You don't have to say anything back, but I do...love you, I mean'.

'And I love you' he said, the words falling from his lips almost reflexively after hers, which made no sense whatsoever because he had never had the opportunity to utter them back to anyone. He had loved, certainly, but for most of his life it had been an abstract thing, either pointedly denied to him or reserved for people long dead. It was, after all, the power spoken of in the prophecy, the one he owed his life to and the one he had called on again when he had sacrificed himself to Voldemort. Love might be the reason he survived past the age of one, but saying the word and hearing it back – that was a different thing entirely.

Then their lips met and words of any kind became superfluous.

Moments later, as Ginny was beginning to wrap herself more tightly around him, he felt her stop and draw back suddenly, leaving Harry momentarily disorientated.

'Harry?' she asked dazedly.

'Hm?'

'Why is your elbow sticky?'

Harry's eyes widened as he remembered.

'Oh, that' he said in a low voice, still reeling from the kiss. 'Well I got slightly…distracted at breakfast and sort of' here he paused to fully take in Ginny's wide, curious eyes, 'put my elbow in the butter dish'.

For a moment, they stared at each other, their faces a few centimetres apart.

Their shaky collapse into laughter was simultaneous and full of more than a little relief after what we can assume was a fitful night's sleep for both of them.

That was what all laughter felt like those days, when every joke left them conscious of that great absence, that of a brother and son. Yet they kept on laughing, very often at inopportune times and always at the expense of one another; both for Fred and for the promise that one day, it would feel normal again.


End file.
